


Jay Merrick Doesn't Know a Lot

by talkhard



Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: Canon Compliant, Crushes, I mean...sorta, I project heavily onto Jay for 1300 words, It takes place during the events of canon let's just say that, Light Angst, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 15:54:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21980770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkhard/pseuds/talkhard
Summary: He didn’t know where he was, exactly, just that he’s about 50 miles south of Huntsville at a Motel 6 with gaudy orange curtains.He didn’t know when his next meal would be. His last one was a bag of pretzels from a CITGO at 4:00pm yesterday.He didn’t know where he was or what he did from March 22nd to March 27th, 2013. There is no footage, no notes, and no memories. They simply woke up in a different hotel.He didn’t know if he would live to see his 27th birthday. He didn’t even know if he would live to see tomorrow.Jay Merrick did know one thing, though, and it was exceptionally clear to him: He was in love with Tim Wright.
Relationships: Jay Merrick/Timothy "Tim" Wright, Jay/Timothy "Tim" W., one-sided relationship - Relationship
Comments: 6
Kudos: 44





	Jay Merrick Doesn't Know a Lot

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I'm writing Marble Hornets fan fiction in the year 2019.
> 
> I'm getting into the series again after 5 years. I was super into it when I was about 14, but after watching it again with a new perspective, I think I can appreciate it a lot more. I tried pretty hard to make these characters think and act like real, human, adult people - hope it worked out. 
> 
> I'm not finished with my re-watch, so if there are any mistakes in the timeline, etc. you're gonna have to forgive me!

Jay Merrick doesn't know a lot. 

He doesn't know where he is, exactly, just that he’s about 50 miles south of Huntsville at a Motel 6 with gaudy orange curtains.  
He doesn't know when his next meal will be. His last one was a bag of pretzels from a CITGO at 4:00pm yesterday.  
He doesn't know where he was or what he did from March 22nd to March 27th, 2013. There is no footage, no notes, and no memories. They simply woke up in a different hotel.  
He doesn't know if he'll live to see his 27th birthday. He doesn't even know if he'll live to see tomorrow.

Jay Merrick does know one thing, though, and it's exceptionally clear to him: He is in love with Tim Wright.

-

He has this very unfortunate and striking realization at a very inconvenient time. They’re in a dingy, nondescript diner, sitting at a booth with faded upholstery bursting at the seams. It's late at night or early in the morning, going by the inky black window that reflects their hunched forms back at them. Tim is eating hashbrowns (he remembers this because they had an argument about putting ketchup directly on them) like they were going out of style. It’s kind of gross, in retrospect. He's not being particularly pleasant about it, neither of them are. He's taking bites of shredded potato with the grace and competence of a toddler, but for some reason, Jay finds it endearing. Cute, even. _Cute. Since when did he think that was cute?_ In a moment of self-awareness, Jay feels the blood rush up his neck and cheeks and sits back for a moment.  


He has very few, vague memories of Tim from the Time Before - fuzzy recollections from the makeshift set of a student film for production class. Now those memories are polluted by the tapes, the presence of whatever that thing was - is - and the morbid reality of Marble Hornets being much, much more than a student film. He knows Tim only works with him now because of the nature of the situation they’re in. It doesn't come up, but Jay knows it's his fault. He dragged Tim into this. And still, Jay thinks, somehow, he has the audacity to develop feelings for someone who might as well despise him, someone who only really trusted him out of necessity. _Develop feelings_. He's barely had time to process this information when Tim realizes Jay has stopped eating and looks up at him.  
“Are you done with these, then?” He asks, gesturing to the plate of potatoes with his fork. He’s talking with his mouth full and he has hot sauce on his chin. _Cute_. Jay just nods and shoves a piece of toast in his mouth. Tim shrugs and grabs the ketchup bottle. “Okay, ‘cause I’m gonna put ketchup ‘em, and I don’t want you to bitch at me.”  
“Yeah man, whatever,” Jay says through his toast, feigning irritation, and they go on like they always do except Jay now has this extremely disturbing thought lodged in his brain like a splinter.  


It isn’t a sexuality crisis or anything. He’s 26 and he knows he's gay, so he has that sorted out for him if nothing else (and there is nothing else). Still, he's anxious, and for a different reason than usual. Suddenly he’s 15 again and wondering why his lab partner Jamie From Chemistry makes his heart flutter and his hands shake like he's coming off oxycodone. This time, it’s a little less jittery and a little more numb, like _Fuck. Guess I’ll have to deal with this now._ as if there isn’t enough on his mind. The last thing he needs, _either_ of them need, is an embarrassingly juvenile infatuation. Aside from being inoppertune, Tim has every reason to despise Jay (and he just might). Despite his brain’s logical objections, however, his recent revelation sits heavy on Jay's chest like a mare, unrelenting and incredibly inconvenient. 

When the waitress brings over the check, she only brings over one. How many times had that happened? Too many to count. They split food a lot, to save money - case in point: the hashbrowns. But now, when Tim reaches for his wallet mumbling something _like you paid last time, I got it,_ Jay’s face goes numb. He almost argues, claims that Tim actually worked for his money and Jay could afford to foot the bill twice in a row, but the domesticity of it embarrasses him. Instead, he mutters his appreciation and pays the tip. The waitress smiles at them when they shuffle out, cheerful as the early hour could allow. Jay wonders if she assumed anything. Probably not, given her friendly attitude. They certainly don’t look like a couple - they don’t talk very much, not in public, and their body language gives off the impression that they’re practically strangers. And they are, in a way. Despite Tim’s medical records and Jay’s every move in the past 3 years being documented and semi-shamelessly displayed online for all to see, do they know each other, really?  


Jay knows Tim has a nervous laugh and runs his hands through his hair a lot when he’s pensive. He puts salt in his oatmeal, cream (but not sugar) in his coffee and, excruciatingly, ketchup directly on his potatoes. He smokes Marlboro Reds, Luckies if he has a few extra bucks. He takes really long, scalding showers that fog up the bathroom and run the water cold. Jay knows all these things, but not, say, where Tim was born, his favorite color, or even what he majored in. Mundane things that a friend would know.  


The more he thinks about it, however, the more irrelevant those things seem. Not here, not now, not when there is so much at stake - it’s almost laughable. He supposes that they've skipped the formalities, the whole 'friendship' part of whatever their relationship had come to be. Jay trusts Tim, in a weird, imperative way. He knows Tim in ways that most people don't quite know their own lover, and collaterally Tim knows Jay by the same process. In that sense, Jay thinks, he's subject to love. He cringes as he mulls this over, Tim mere inches to his right. His nerves were on fire, embarrassment burning from his chest to his fingertips as if Tim could read his thoughts, as he comes to the realization right then.  
He's in love with Tim Wright. He loves his nervous laugh, and his strange habits, and though he's loathe to admit it, he's starting to love the smell of cigarettes. Tim is brave, and serious, and smart. Despite every shitty card life has dealt him, he's forgiving and compassionate. Jay is, decisively, in love with him.

“What’s your favorite color?” 

The words surprise even Jay, who had been previously occupied capturing every moment of their short walk back to the motel on film. Neither of them have spoken in what he knows is minutes but what feels like hours, and now Jay can't tell which awkward silence is worse -- this one or the one before. Tim looks up at him and does his nervous half-laugh.  


“What?”  


“Um… Do you have a favorite color?” Jay tries again, looking anywhere but at Tim. His thought process made a bit more sense in his scattered stream of consciousness. He had gotten to the love part - now to fill in the space between. This was better in theory. He kicks an empty beer can down the sidewalk and follows it with his camera. He zooms in on the label as they pass it. Miller Lite.  


“Are you okay?” Tim asks. He’s still looking at Jay, eyes flicking between him and the empty street. Jay feels his gaze burning into the side of his neck, but doesn't respond. They’re approaching the motel now, and Tim stops in the parking lot to light up. Jay stops too, keeping the camera trained anywhere but Tim. He points it at his feet and fiddles with the viewfinder.  


“Yeah, I’m fine," Jay says finally, and it’s his turn to nervous-laugh. “Sorry.” He shuts the camera down and turns toward the motel, blood roaring like an ocean in his ears, already beginning to silently berate himself. It’s so loud he almost doesn’t hear Tim’s reply.  


“Orange,” He says, and Jay turns back to see the cloud of smoke that leaves Tim’s lips when he speaks. His expression is unreadable behind the thin veil of milky grey that shields his face, but his voice is even and matter-of-fact. He coughs, just once, and the smoke clears so Jay can see he’s answering seriously. He takes another drag and for a moment Jay catches the small smile that flits across his face. “I guess,” he adds, and starts back towards the motel. “I haven’t really thought about it in a while.” Jay turns and walks with him, silent save for the small _me neither_ he chuckles under his breath.

-

Jay Merrick doesn't know a lot.

He doesn't remember when he last talked to his parents. After his apartment burned down he stopped calling them. Do they think he’s dead? Better if they do.  
He doesn't know if he'll wake up where he falls asleep tonight. For all he knows, he could not wake up at all.  
He doesn't know exactly what time it is. His phone is dead and the outlet doesn't work and the grimy clock in their room says it's 7 in the morning, despite the darkness outside. Time is an illusion anyway.  
He doesn't know if Alex is beyond help or not, or if any of this would be worth it in the end. He knows that he lost his friend a long, long time ago.

Jay Merrick did know one thing, though, and it was exceptionally clear to him that night, as he stared at those god-awful orange curtains that suddenly didn’t seem so bad: He was in love with Tim Wright.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments always appreciated. 
> 
> If you liked this, follow me on tumblr @talkhard!


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